The span of years from today back to that fateful place is vast, more time gone than she can measure. Sometimes life brings you, as it did to her that day, to a crossroads. Cruel words, careless actions, the breaking of faith led her to a decision, to walk away or to stay. How many times since that day had she gone back, in her memory, to the ever-changing shadow of that crossroads, looking down two different paths, not sure where either would lead? Countless times she had stood there, though only once in truth, and had made that same decision every time. This road had not been easy. It had not even, were she honest, been good. There had been moments of real friendship, even love. There had been happy days. Some fundamental part of her, however, could not bear to think that the other road would have been better. If she considered, even for a moment, that the choice so long ago could have, had she chosen otherwise, brought her to a better place, she would loose in despair the fragile tendons that held her together and she would scatter like dust to the winds. "You never really have a choice," she tells you. "The other road is just a trick of the eye. It's never really available to you."
You would never suspect, if you saw her, who she really was inside. You would never guess who she could have been. Be careful, therefore, not to believe your eyes.
You steal my likeness from me, make it yours
All those hours, all those years
I've thought and shaped
And chosen and acted
And not acted
To become me
And you glance at me
So easily
So lightly
Stealing my image away into yourself
Beyond my reach
And you walk away
And you think you know
But you do not know
And you cannot know
And I would tear out your eyes
And take it back
If I could
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
